Renewing Old Aquaintances
by Wesley E. Matillies
Summary: A ghost from Ducky's past arrives with murderous intent. Is the FBI covering up something more than a simple riot that occurred more than twenty years ago? Is Ducky more than he appears or is this simply a case of mistaken identity?


_**Renewing Old Acquaintances**_

_**It Was Only the Morning**_

6:45 am.

The demanding knock upon the wood of the front door was completely and utterly unexpected. Very few know of the house's existence and very few choose single digit hours to come calling.

_Who would come calling this early without forewarning? _Doctor Donald "Ducky" Mallard mused as he descended the grand staircase of his stately home, tying his bowtie as he went. He sighed inwardly at the incessant knockings. One thing he would never get used to about America is the residents' apparent lack of patience or curtsey.

_Anyone other than Gibbs, _he amended, _then again, he probably would have picked the lock, let himself in and made some coffee by now. _

Throwing open the front door any previous annoyance fled as a wide grin broke the sullen early morning expression of the aging M.E. as the dull rays framed a very familiar face. A smile which quickly slipped and smashed on the doorstep as a short barrel of cold metal at chest height glinted in the limited sunlight.

_Why are things always too good to be true? Ah well, just another day at the office then._

He backed himself out of the doorway in preference to being thrown through and let his uninvited visitor in.

9:15 am.

The squad room was a constant hum and bustle of activity with federal agents running every-which-way; some with unsteadily tall stacks of paper and files, some with coffee in travel cups or mugs while others were even still sporting the remainder of their rushed or half-finished breakfasts. Special Agent Gibbs, seated at his desk was keeping one eye on the reams of paperwork and file folders which threatened to take over the wooden surface and the other on his team of agents while directing the organized chaos. Slow Saturdays meant a myriad of cold and unsolved cases to sift through and this time they might actually have found a lead.

'McGee; pull all the phone records again, five mile radius on the tracking and if that's not enough, take it to ten. Ziva; get onto the local LEOs, see if there's anything they "forgot" to tell us the first time. DiNozzo; get me the autopsy report on Commander Shinoz.'

Tony was barely visible behind the fortress he had forged around his desk from the case files and reports. 'It's on your desk, Boss. Put it there myself,' came the muffled reply via the silver biro he had shoved in his mouth to leave both hands free for file shifting without having to worry about losing it.

'If it was DiNozzo, I wouldn't be asking!' snapped Gibbs, pushing an incredibly large stack of red folders off his desk and onto the floor to make room for his coffee. Paperwork and Gibbs did not mix very well – rather like water and oil, fire and ice. And we all know which one wins hands down. 'Fine! Get Ducky to bring us up another copy.'

'Will do, Boss,' easier said than done as the Senior Field Agent moved, removed and relocated the mess in search of the phone.

'McGee – phone records, screen, now!'

'Sure thing, Boss.'

'Uh, Special Agent Gibbs. Here's the, uh, autopsy reports you, you wanted.'

Gibbs glared up at the young Medical Assistant, more out of surprise than anything. 'Jimmy? Where's Ducky?'

'Uh, he's – he's not here Agent Gibbs.'

'What do you mean "not here"?' He echoed as he stood, pushing practically everything off the desk in the process.

'Uh, he's uh…'

Palmer never got to finish forming his sentence as Gibbs had already grabbed his gun from the draw, tossed the keys to Tony (who barely caught them over his barricade), told them to 'Gear up! Tony, get the Sedan.' and was halfway to the lift, already dialing his cell phone, with McGee and Ziva at his heels.

Palmer sighed, shrugged and then started picking up the mess the Field Agents had left behind.

_One thing's for sure, _he though, _life at NCIS could never be described as boring._

10:39 am.

Not even the rush hour traffic could slow Gibbs down and Tony found himself wondering if he was Lightning McQueen in another life. _Speed! I am speed! Flying like a Cadillac. Stinging like a Beamer. _He shook himself as they mounted the pavement as Gibbs hugged the curb a bit too tight in the turn once again.

The Sudan jerked to a halt on the gravel drive in front of the verandah of the Mallard residence. All four drew their weapons and ran, half crouched to the open front door slapping up against the side of the house in the wind. Gibbs signaled for McGee and Ziva to go around back as he and Tony stormed the front, poking their guns into every nook and cranny.

An almost continuous chorus of 'Clear!' echoed through the house until Gibbs burst into the study.

'Duck! Ziva – get the medics! NOW!'

The Doctor was slumped in the large wing backed chair near the fire, blood pumping out from under the hilt of the large hunting knife imbedded in the right side of his chest. Gibbs shoved his gun back in its holster and ran to the side of his old friend. Utterances of 'Oh God!' and 'No way!' were stifled as McGee and Tony entered the room. Ziva had already left to make the call.

Gibbs held his friend and silently prayed the ambulance drivers drove like Ziva. 'Hang on Duck. You're not gonna leave me now. Stay with me Duck.'

Ducky was already slipping into shock as his hand tightened over Gibbs' near the knife. 'Jethro…'

'I'm here Duck. Just stay with me, alright? Don't leave me Duck, please. Don't leave me.'

His lips parted to form a single, whispered word.

'Napoleon…'

Gibbs held on tighter. 'Who's Napoleon, Duck? Duck? Duck!'

But he had already gone.


End file.
